Severus Studies
by Nobody'sGirl101
Summary: Ten pieces exploring the character of Severus. Exercises to ready for a larger work. This is not a sexy story-the M is for a scene of Severus masturbating to non-con porn. Trigger warning for the non-con porn, by the way. Thanks, Fat Cat.
1. Prince

Even in his daydreams of being an exalted Death Eater, skilful and powerful, Lily showed up. It embarassed Severus. One minute he'd be thinking of finally getting some appreciation for his skills in the Dark Arts, not to mention Dark Potions-and then the next, he'd imagine Voldemort rewarding him for some particularly skilled new draught. Rewarding him with his Lily.

Ridiculous.

But it wouldn't be too long before Lily loved him again, better this time. He was sure of that. After all, if they could become best friends through accidental meetings in Manchester, imagine what they could become if he had her all to himself. And he'd be older, richer, possibly handsome, though he burned with embarassment when he realized his daydream self was dressed as richly as Lucius and looked suspiciously like Black, but even more like Potter. (_They're not any better than me, _he told himself furiously, but he suspected he was lying.) He imagined the handsome Snape slipping his mother's pearl ring onto her left hand, dreamed of giving her his well-loved potions book and seeing her eyes widen at his discoveries.

She was muggleborn-he winced at the memory of calling her the other, worse word-and that would be a problem. But it hardly seemed possible that Death Eaters would kill her for the accident of her birth when she looked so lovely in their greens and silvers.


	2. Playing Dirty

Amortentia is an idiosyncratic potion: the sunny color, the goldfish-playfulness of the motions, the smells. But a good potioneer can disguise any elixir. And Snape has always been a good potioneer.

He and Lily often worked on potions together. It would be easy to pass her a camouflaged Amortentia, saying "Take a swig of this, Evans. What do you think?" Actually it would be supremely hard: brewing the draught of infatuation, making it look safe, and-after the disaster of fifth year-getting her alone long enough to swallow it. Maybe he'd disguise it as a hiccoughing solution.

Then: happiness. Although Snape found himself more and more willing to play dirty, both with the Death Eaters and with Lily's heart, he wouldn't hurt her like she'd hurt him. No revenge. She wouldn't experience more than a second of unrequited love before he slipped his arms around her, nuzzling the back of her neck. He'd heard that a kiss under the influence of Amortentia was unimaginably fulfilling, so Lily should enjoy herself at least as much as him.


	3. Oestre Lily

Severus knew enough Celtic witchlore to know that red hair and green eyes are a visual code for fertility goddess. Some potioneers invoke them. Nantosuelta, Damara, Onuava, Rosmerta: they came into play for contraception, forcing blossom, fertilizing, and brewery. It was all very mixed up. They'd forgive a slip of the tongue, bless you at least a bit even if you asked them the wrong favor. But it was a witch's thing. Magic for the disenfranchised. Someone like McGonagall, more than equal to any man, wouldn't think about it. She'd ignore this back alley of magic like she'd ignore Knockturn Alley, like her namesake ignored the Furies (women's goddesses through and through) in the Oresteia, a trilogy which most muggles didn't realize had magic properties.

Even when it focussed on decidedly male gods, the old religious magic remained a witch's thing. Severus had seen his mother murmur for the Green Man when she watered her potted plants; he'd never seen a wizard-Slughorn, say-call even on Cernunnos. And sometimes, Slughorn needed the help. It did make Severus feel a little better that, if he had to be left out of the Slug Club, Cernunnos was left out too.

Once, Severus's mother told him what sounded like a witch's secret: that Oestre was the most powerful invocation of the era. Still useful for pregnancy magic (which often involved rabbits) or making almost anything young for a season, Oestre had picked up some associations with Easter, the holiday that hijacked her name. Now that name was all tangled up with self-sacrifice, and love.

Self-sacrifice. For a while in NEWT potions, he'd played with the idea that self-sacrifice was a powerful catalyst for magic. That maybe, for instance, truly giving yourself into a euphoric elixir would make it induce actual happiness. Or turn Amortentia from an infatuation draught to the first true love potion. But he'd been too busy with the Death Eaters to fully pursue that line of thought.

But damn if Lily didn't grow every day into a new Oestre. Hair like the scarlet pimpernel.* Eyes like grass or glass or April. A body that Severus described in his guiltiest thoughts as lissom, or slender, or blooming. Lily would snort if he told her all this; her mind was too sharp, too quick to be Oestre-like. But her soul was appropriately soft.

Severus whispered to Oestre when he made his third Elixir to Induce Euphoria; he did his best to feed the potion a rare memory of touching Lily's hair. He also added a sprig of peppermint. He drank the whole bottle on the first day of summer and was high for days. Hard to be sure whether the herbs or the prayers did it. But, as his mother once told him, nursing her own black eye, goddesses work in mysterious ways.

* * *

><p>*Anagallis arvensis, whose flame-colored blossom is often known as Shepherd's Clock. I imagine it is necessary in time-turners, which Baroness Orczy's hero made extensive use of. In wizarding circles it is well known that the book was written to cover up the activities of a British halfblood rescuing aristocratic wizards and witches from the guillotine, which isn't as easy to survive as a spot of burning at the stake.<p> 


	4. Egerit

Severus and his body had been at odds for years. The Christmas that Dumbledore pulled out all the stops and let students order whatever they wanted, Severus simply stared at his golden plate. He was unsure of his favorite food or even what he was hungry for at the moment. And he couldn't remember ever knowing.

At the Gryffindor table, Black tore into a turkey leg. Suddenly a working relationship with one's tongue and stomach seemed very Gryffindor. Severus wondered spitefully if the git's parents had kept him here because they didn't want to see him eat.

Slughorn once recommended Lily a potions book from the Restricted Section. When she finished it, Severus had his turn. He could barely take his eyes off it: reading it in classes, reading it late at night. When he had a few hours after class, he luxuriated in it. Once, he looked at the alarm clock with a jolt; he missed dinner by an hour. But he'd missed meals before. Thus began a pattern; he'd sporadically forget meals, lost in study, and became a little sulky until the next scheduled mealtime.

Severus took short, awkward showers. He didn't particularly like his nakedness—_white as a cave-blind fish, _he'd think sometimes, not to be outdone by James even at insulting himself. He knew he had poor dress-sense and worse hygiene. No one would let him forget it. But he dreaded even more than his ugliness the humiliation of trying, and failing.

Imagine what Black would say: "An almost-decent job washing your hair, T for trying! But the nose, Snivvy. And the face. And the body? A little effort on those bits. Not that I could imagine anything helping."

Severus stayed up too late because he rarely liked his dreams.

Severus decidedly didn't like his body. It was demanding, and frustrating, and took away from his time to think and to read and to practice magic. He had ignored it so long he couldn't really tell what it wanted anymore.

Except for one, very particular want.

It could be sharp and unexpected, like that time she surprised him in the library with her hands over his eyes; he'd stiffened and fallen out of his seat. Or an impossibly long heart-pause, like when they read together and he could watch her for whole minutes. It could be pure freshness, aching like a sudden April when she did something that was simply so Lily. And since thirteen he had known that his body somehow held the culmination and exaltation of these feelings. All he had to do was touch.

_Got a dick and a mind greasier than your hair_, Severus told himself.

* * *

><p><em>Author's note<em>: the idea is that when Tobias started beating him, Severus pretty much shut down his bodily awareness so that he wouldn't feel it as much, and started denigrating his body so the beatings would seem unimportant. Knowing that he did grow up in an abusive household, this kind of body seems like a pretty good explanation for his greasy hair and part of the awful temper (so many mood problems are related to not meeting physical needs).

His physical need for Lily is different, because it shows up later in his life than beating and eating, which probably started at about the same time.

But Severus isn't self-aware enough, at least physically, to realize all this, and since this story is in his point of view I have to give you this fucking cheaply-written author's note. I WANT TO SHOW AND NOT TELL


	5. Competition

_ Author's Note:_ Thanks to the awesome Imogen Bradford for her support, her conversation, and the idea with which this drabble was formed—" Severus' reaction to other guys (not just James) starting to get feelings for Lily. I feel like her would be really possessive of her…"

"Hey, I seriously think that guy is looking at us." Mary Macdonald's Charms partner nudged Lily in the ribs.

Sitting with, but not really with, Lily's friends in the library, Severus briefly wondered if it was cool to hang out with a bunch of girls. Probably not. Not while he was doing it. And especially not while he was enjoying it so little. Lily raised her eyes from her book, Mary pressed her hand to her mouth, and the Charms girl bounced in her chair a little. Such girls. Such total Gryffindors. Except for the last girl, who might have been a Hufflepuff.

How could one person both go to the library for an upper-level magical theory book, and, when she got there, purse her lips at an interested boy until he looked away with a smirk? Lily managed. Severus wound one strand of hair around his fingertip until it hurt.

Mary looked at him analytically. "I think it's that Ravenclaw fourth year. Dark hair…Michael?"

Lily seemed to be looking at the dark hair.

But then she turned back to her book and everything was back to normal, if not ideal.

Severus stayed later at the library than the girls did. Apparently he had more he wanted to read than they did. A lot more to read, considering he was faster at it than any of them but maybe Lily. But dinner was coming up and he had a paper to write afterwards.

He passed a table of older Ravenclaw boys on the way to the door; one tugged at his sleeve to pull him back over. The dark-haired. Michael.

"Hey, weren't you sitting with those girls?"

Severus nodded.

"What year are they?"

"Third," said Severus unwillingly. One of Michael's friends chortled and slapped him on the back. And Severus extricated himself, half-noticing that James was paying more attention to this side of the room than to his friends.

He ate dinner. He worked on his essay. He got ready for bed, and he lay in bed. Constructive actions.

But the whole time, he was wondering, _what did that reaction mean? Is thirteen too young for him? Or just old enough?_

The whole time, he was remembering how Lily looked at Michael. Judging him. Not necessarily judging him worthy. But judging him in a way that she would never even think to judge Severus.


	6. Rubbing It Out

_Herbology and Potions: Reconciling the Spirits of the Arts, _the spine proclaimed. Wilkes kept it not on his bookshelf but on his nightstand. Severus saw him sometimes flipping through it. It wasn't a required text—not for third years. It looked interesting. So when Severus came in one day to the book flopped on Wilkes' bed and Wilkes showering, Severus picked it up to take a look.

A pale wizard in the upper left corner wrenched a naked witch's arm behind her back, catching her waist roughly. In another photo, a trembling woman with arms and legs stiffly spread-eagled closed her eyes at the approach of a large man. Severus couldn't not stare. His fingers suddenly felt sweaty.

"Hey," said Wilkes, pulling on his robe, "aren't you going to ask first?"

Severus started, guiltily dropping the book onto Wilkes' bed. "I—"

"Want a little privacy?"

"I had assumed it was a potions book," said Severus, his throat dry.

"It will be if you tap your wand against it twice," said Wilkes.

"Ah." Severus looked down at it, caught the eye of a woman in the middle of a scream, and started. He could feel a flush rising.

"If you silencio your bedcurtains," Wilkes said, "no one can hear you. Scourgify might come in handy too. I think I'm headed out."

He suited the word to the action before Severus could pull himself together enough to say, "I don't need this." But Severus said it anyway. The book was there on Wilkes' bed. He stood over it.

It wasn't the first time he'd seen anything like this; his father had pictures, which Severus had found more than once in the garage. The girls were dressed up in bits of fabric which looked tartier than nudity, which after all showed up in museums. And obviously the pictures weren't moving. He'd always thought of this kind of thing as something for drunks who hated their wives. But, as in so many things, the wizarding version was clearly different.

He wouldn't pick it up just yet. But he would look.

One picture caught his eye: a man in a hooded black robe spooned up behind a woman with her wrists tied to the headboard and her feet to the footboard. He pressed his nose into the space behind her ear. Though her body was too pliant for petrificus totalus, the woman didn't move. Maybe she was just exhausted. She kept her eyes squeezed shut and her mouth in a grim line as the man kneaded her shoulders. They could clearly use some rubbing; slowly, over minutes, she relaxed. Severus was starting to get a little tight-shouldered himself from stooping over the book. Without taking his eyes from the picture, he picked up the book and sat back on his bed.

As the woman's shoulders loosened, the man slipped his hands around her ribcage and passed his fingers over her breasts.

Up till that point Severus had thought of the woman's nudity as being like the nudity of a sculpture of Venus, or a painting of an odalisque. Beautiful in a way that art critics could write of, or that pureblooded women could opine about when they brought their friends to see the newest addition to their west wing gallery. A nude woman, like all other beauty, was another thing for the mind to mull on.

But the man passed his hands over the woman's breasts and her nipples suddenly wrinkled. They contracted into small dark versions of themselves. As for the woman, she tossed her hair and started a struggle that ended in the man pressing himself against her too hard for her to move and moving his hands to her torso again. He drew a line where her breasts met her ribs. Her whole chest broke out in gooseflesh.

A naked body wasn't just beautiful, it was vulnerable. Subject to reactions it didn't necessarily want. Severus could feel his penis hard and heavy between his legs.

He'd imagined being married to Lily. What it usually came down to was a feeling-picture of the pair of them in a bed, and of holding her incredibly tight. Sometimes he would be kissing her. Since he didn't know what kissing felt like, though, that added less to the physical and more to the emotional tone of the fantasy. Kissing is for lovers in love. The image of them kissing meant that they were in love.

He felt a little jealous of the hooded man. He had the girl he wanted, had her absolutely. It didn't even matter if she wanted it.

What was the real likelihood that Lily would ever want him?

Now the man kissed along the woman's throat as he got more and more involved with her breasts. Her chest was becoming mottled. Though the picture was black and white, Severus knew that this dappling was a red flush. The man started to move against her back as her mouth opened in a strained cry; he forced a hand between her legs to press her buttocks against him. At that her eyes flew open.

The man removed the hand to look at it. The fingers shone with a pearly wetness.

He pressed his fingers back into her and started caressing her.

Severus watched dry-mouthed as the witch's flush spread. Her struggles had the occasional convulsive quality to them, as if she wasn't totally in control of them. Her captor began to stroke along her waist with his free hand. When his thumb worked its way into her navel, her hips began to buck and her eyelids fluttered. At that he pressed his other hand more firmly against her groin. Her mouth opened in a long gasp.

The wizard rode out her paroxysm, then sat up to watch her sob.

Severus flipped away from that couple; clearly, they were done for the time being.

He spent a long while watching different women's reactions, goosebumps and flushes and tensings and nipples that shrank and stiffened. Tongues that darted between parted lips. Fair freckled women seemed to have the advantage for the mottled flush Severus liked so much. Page 119 had a close-up of the intimate architecture between a woman's legs. She played with a bit of flesh joining a set of vertical folds; as she rolled the little morsel between her fingers, everything darkened and swelled and a little liquid dripped from the very middle. Whenever her fingers were working their fastest and most desperate, a man's hand slapped them away. She seemed to be trying for the open-mouthed trance state that the first woman had unwillingly achieved; the man was slowing it down, forcing her to let it last.

Severus sympathized with her. He was feeling just as tense. He took a cue from her and from a wizard on page 75, who seemed to like rubbing himself till he spurted on some poor girl's face, and opened up his trousers.

His penis was stiff as wood and an alarming color. He felt a little distaste at touching it. He tried wrapping a hand around it and rapidly running his hand up and down the length of it, as page 75 showed. Soon the friction was too much and he had to rest. The man had been shiny with wetness even before he sprayed, as had the woman. Severus hoped something wasn't wrong with him. After a minute he settled on more slowly rolling his hand up and down the tip. His foreskin felt good rubbing against his head.

It wasn't quite enough.

He pictured Lily. He couldn't imagine her breasts, so she kept her shirt. Her legs he had seen in bathing suits. He put her in the position of the first woman, tied hand and foot. It was a confused, vague fantasy. He wasn't exactly sure what she liked, but he pictured her wriggling and flushing and it being because of him. The nerves in his legs were coming alive as well as the ones he expected, then the ones in his stomach. His mental Lily gasped, jerked, and stilled. And Severus did the same.

After a few minutes of catching his breath, and fantasizing wife-Lily again, cuddled against him, he felt something drip onto his nose. He opened his eyes. His curtains were gluey with the stuff he'd made.

He woke into his normal disgust for his body.

"Scourgify," he muttered at his curtains and then at himself. He tapped the book twice and placed it carefully on Wilkes' nightstand. The library. He didn't want Wilkes to see him, probably to ask how it was, and the library was ideal for avoiding Wilkes.

Unfortunately it wasn't ideal for avoiding James and Co., who would notice his pink cheeks and unusually greaseless nose, and ask him what he got all cleaned up for.

And it wasn't ideal for avoiding Lily. It would be hard for him to look at her for several days.


	7. Dirty Laundry

"You shouldn't have to do that," Severus says as Lily lugs her hamper from her room to the washing machine.

"It's my laundry," Lily says. She tosses her black denim shorts into one pile, a couple of sundresses into another. A handful of socks goes straight into the machine.

He sucks an ice lollipop meditatively. It doesn't taste like watermelon, like Mrs. Evans promised it would, but it's nice. Probably wizards have nicer ones. "My mum doesn't have to do it that way."

Lily turns to him, still holding an armful of vests. White, pale pink, sunflower, green.

"Laundry magic," says Severus.

"The magical version isn't _always_ better than the muggle version."

She used to say _the normal version_. "Yes it is."

She turns away from him. A worrying development. The very first time he talked to her she left in a huff, barely three months ago. He's never sure what will set her off. Or people in general.

But she turns back holding her whole hamper, and smiling.

"Yeah. You're right."

Severus takes one side of the hamper and nudges the back door open with his elbow. They negotiate their way down the back steps, into the sunshine. Severus leads. Then they trot down the sidewalk to his part of town. The sunshine masks the poverty.

"Is it…too heavy for you?" Severus can't actually carry it by himself, but it seems polite to offer.

"No." She attempts to flick her hair out of her face. "This must look so weird. Imagine the housewives peering out of the windows, watching two kids lugging laundry down the street."

That's not the weirdest part, thinks Severus. The weirdest part is the contrast. The pretty big-eyed girl being tugged along by the dirty kid in the workman's shirt. Sunday school angel and juvenile delinquent. Although Lily didn't actually go to Sunday school. They reach his house.

"My dad's not home, and mother is sleeping," he offers.

"Oh…should we really go in?"

"Yes?" says Severus. Lily never offers this kind of information when he comes over—maybe it's not normal to be relieved when your parents are gone. He beckons her in. The house is heavy with silence, the kind that makes Severus feel safe. But Lily looks a little uncomfortable. "Stay here. I'm going to my parents' room."

"You're not going to wake your mum up to do my laundry, are you?"

"Of course not," says Severus. Her door creaks, but if Severus opens it slowly enough that's not a problem. Her wand hides in a crevice under the dresser that only magic fingers can reach into. He brings it back into the front room, where Lily reaches out for it, but can't quite bring herself to touch it. "Go on."

Lily presses one finger to the tip, then draws back.

"Are we going to be in trouble?" she whispers.

"Why?"

"Dementors," Lily says, and he can see that even though she's not quite sure whether to believe in them yet, she's still afraid.

"They'll just think my mum's doing it," Severus says. "Her wand, her house, and she's just a few meters away. Kids with magical parents can pretty much do whatever thay want, long as they're at home."

"Another narrow escape from Azkaban, then," says Lily teasingly. Severus flushes. Though she can hardly disbelieve in magic _itself_ now—she does enough of it!—her belief in the _world _of magic wavers. And the world of magic is pretty much all he has to give her. So these doubting moments are difficult for him. But if she saw the wand—how it worked—

He snatches one of the shirts. "Scourgify. See?"

Lily takes it from him, feels it, sniffs it. Severus awaits her judgment. "Do another one. Only this time, let me see it first. We need before and after."

"You're not impressed?"

"Sure I'm impressed. Just…try this skirt." She passes him one bedraggled with mud; he remembers how it got that way. A Sunday afternoon on the riverbank. He smiles at the memory, but he's not exactly sure he can do this.

He works all the magic he can feel in himself right into the tips of his fingers. The transfer of magic from hand to wand doesn't feel as clean, efficient, as his mother says it feels with the right wand. He needs to use a little too much magic, leave some room for error.

"Scourgify," he says experimentally, flicking the wand; the mud disappears in the pattern of his movements, as if he's hosing it down. He lets Lily _oooh,_ but he worries. When his mother cleans, it all sort of happens in one go, as it were. But his worry doesn't stop him from showing off a little. "And that's how a wizard deals with laundry."

"You have to let me try," says Lily, wresting the wand away. "Hey, if your mum can do this, why are you always so dirty?"

But he doesn't have a chance to explain it away. Another voice intrudes.

"Severus."

Both children look up guiltily.

Severus' mother often says that if she was a little bit prettier, she wouldn't be where she was today. But Severus can't help thinking she's very pretty, in a widowed-queen way. Pale brown hair pulled straight back, a nose perfect for looking down. His mother is beautiful, she doesn't need to be any prettier. It's just that she's also scary.

"Why don't you hand me that."

Lily holds the wand out tentatively; Eileen will not look at her. Flushing, Severus takes it and hands it over.

"I need some sleep," Eileen says, still staring at her son.

Lily doesn't know quite what to make of this, but Severus keeps his head down, gathers the laundry, and heads for the door. After a momentary glance at Eileen, Lily follows.

"Darling, we were wondering where you were," says Mrs. Evans as Lily pushes through the door, but Severus interrupts her sentence and her calm by barreling past with a half-empty hamper of laundry. He deposits it by the washing machine and tries to leave by the back door. When it won't open, he jiggles the handle, then wrenches at it more and more wildly, then collapses to the floor in a sob.

He can feel someone approaching, but he doesn't look up.

"Hey, champ. Tyke." Mr. Evans kneels down heavily. "Severus. What's wrong?"

"I'm tired," Severus lies. He can feel Lily's dad's affection beating against him. He feels suffocated by it.

"Well." Mr. Evans is at a loss for words. "Why don't we both calm down then."

Ten minutes later, Severus is in a lukewarm bath with another watermelon ice lolly. He is calm. Calmer than he's been in days. Calm enough to be a little ashamed of how he acted earlier. He hears the front door open. Probably Mr. Evans, back from picking up the clothes the two kids dropped on the way back from Spinner's End.

"…glad you're back. We really need to talk to Lily…"

Severus doesn't mean to overhear Mrs. Evans' whisper. But he determines to overhear the rest of the conversation. If they tell her she can't be around him—

Chairs scrape as the three of them sit down in the kitchen. He half-hears Lily haltingly explain the day, the gap between her parents leaving a happy girl doing chores alone and coming back to an empty house and then two sobbing kids with armfuls of dirty clothes. Severus stares stony-faced at his knees, trying not to imagine what they must be thinking of him. A chunk of watermelon ice falls into the tub.

Lily's parents pause, then ask her to let them talk for a minute.

For these moments they're really trying not to be heard, but Severus picks out a few words. Poor thing…the family…can't go over there…but can't hurt him…

They call her back. Mrs. Evans speaks softly to her daughter, but Severus pieces it together. Apparently Mr. Evans has been sick before, with cancer, and the treatments make him tired. According to Mrs. Evans, the Snapes are sick in a similar way. Not exactly the same way; Lily doesn't need to worry about them dying, like they all worried for Daddy a few years ago. They just get tired easily, and she shouldn't go over and wear them out. And of course Severus should come over any time. After all, if Daddy was ill and the Snapes were well, they'd certainly do the same.

They feel sorry for him.

But he doesn't have time to process this, because Mr. Evans remembers that he forgot to give their guest a towel.

ocument here...


	8. Antonyms

_"I could stand a visit to Fortescue's," said Severus. "There's something so. . .subtle about their flavorings."_

_Lily looked up at him, narrowed eyes, half-quirked smile. He'd said something stupid. That was the way she looked at him when he was stupid, no matter how many times she insisted it was 'just that you did something so Severus, come on, Sev, I promise.'_

_"What?" he asked, striding on, looking straight ahead. This is what people who don't care look like._

_"Subtle," she said. "For ice cream, Sev? Really? Everything is _subtle_ now. I think it's just your favorite word."_

_"I just thought we should make the most of a trip to London," said Severus tightly._

_It was his favorite word._

* * *

><p>In first year, Potter hung Moaning Myrtle's toilet seat at the entrance to Slytherin before the first Slytherin-Gryffindor game. In second year, he'd set off seven galleons' worth of fireworks in the Great Hall for his birthday, eight for each birthday of his three closest friends, nine for Dumbledore's and twenty for that of Argus Filch. In third year, there were a few weeks where every day Lily's pudding listed another of his marvelous character traits, spelled out in meringue or sugared violets.<p>

All of which was to say that Potter was not subtle.

In first year, Severus built up a respectable suite of ingredients for his experiments, taking an extra sprig of dittany here, an extra handful of cobweb there. In second year, he found an empty classroom where he could practice spells and brew longer-term potions without fear of their being kicked over. In third year he hit Potter with such a complex hex that the next day Black, of all people, showed up in the library to research effects and counterspells.

"You could have just asked me," Lily said when she found out about his three-year history of thieving. "I would have given you what you wanted. You wouldn't have had to steal."

"You see things in such black and white," said Severus.

"Of course I do. Black-and-white thinking is how I know Potter and Black are prats. What if Potter had been taking school supplies? Wouldn't you want me to think it was prattish?"

"I would want you to think it was prattish if Potter did it, because Potter did it," said Severus, "and all right if I did it because I did it and I'm all right."

Severus was quite serious, but Lily giggled. "Really, Sev."

"Is it that hard for you to imagine someone disagreeing with you? After all, Potter and Black have the money not to need to steal."

"But if I'm not thinking in black and white, I could feel sorry for hypothetical beetle-eye stealing Black because of his family. And Potter's mum is ill. Maybe his parents forgot to take him shopping, and he doesn't want to owl them and make them feel bad, and he's planning on paying it back anyway."

"I'd be ill too if I were his mother."

But Lily, earnest to the smattering of freckles on her nose, responded, "How do you think then, if not black-and-whitely?"

"Grays. Colors. I don't know. Something subtler," said Severus. "Possibly entirely in shades of green.

* * *

><p>He didn't mean to crash into Black and Potter on that late night potions run. At first he thought he'd run into nothing. In his initial scrabble with invisibility, he pulled on some fabric and revealed a very scared Potter piggybacking a very scared Black. Black already had his wand out, and clearly he saw something moving in the dark, because he disillusioned Severus fast as anything. Severus pulled out his wand, James' feet hit the floor with a clack, and the boys were at a standstill.<p>

"The snake slithers out at night," said Black, attempting to menace.

"The twin lion cubs," said Severus, "make themselves look like complete dunderheads. Divination has ruined you. Besides, snakes like sunshine and daytime. It's lions who're nocturnal."

Black bucked at him, and Potter held him back with a "Hold it. I'll handle this situation." He looked very serious.

Severus snorted. "Playing auror?"

"This school could use it," said Black, nostrils flaring. "What, did you get separated from your friends? They're in McGonagall's office, she'll be glad to have you join them. Unless you're looking for the girl you were all playing with. But she's with Pomfrey. Madam P. might be less inclined towards visitors."

Severus remembered hearing some sixth- and seventh-year boys filing out of the dormitory earlier. He also remembered hearing some of his housemates talk about "getting critical with the infestation" that night. "What girl?"

Potter and Black looked at each other, not quite sure. "Dark hair?" offered Black, while Potter cut in with a "Like you don't know."

"Well, I was just studying," Severus said acidly, regretting it as soon as saw how quickly they believed him. "Snivellus rhymes with friendless," Pettigrew had called after him once, and though it wasn't really a rhyme, or clever, even a few Slytherins laughed. He attempted to distract. "What are you doing up, then?"

"Studying. For a _friend_," said Black, and they were fighting words. Severus outthrust his wand arm before he knew which spell he wanted, while he was still attempting to figure out how one could study for a friend. Black seemed eager to engage. All that stopped the fight was Potter, blocking his friend, holding his wand out at Severus.

"Padfoot, go," he said, and for a wild moment Severus thought that Potter had invented a hex, but then Black grabbed some fabric and swished into nothing—_a cloak, that's how they do it—_and, from the sound of his soft steps, disappeared down the hall.

Now it was down to the two real rivals, no matter how Black third-wheeled his way in, or Lupin or Pettigrew.

Potter lowered his wand, then slowly pocketed it, watching Severus closely. He held his hands up in a gesture of harmlessness that (inadvertently?) showed his arm muscles.

"I'm not going to spell you. I wouldn't," he said. " Not first," he amended at Severus' raised eyebrows. "You're very hex-happy, you know. All I want to do is go safely home, and to bed, and in pursuance of that end, I want you to walk that way down the hall"—he pointed—"so I can go that way."

"That's not the way to Gryffindor tower," said Severus.

Potter stared him down as if that might solve something.

"You're not going to bed," said Severus.

Potter stared some more.

"You're up to something," said Severus.

Potter stared.

"And I'm going to find out what," said Severus.

"Bollocks," said Potter. And then he ran, clattering loudly.

Severus ran too, wondering at the sound, then the speed, then realizing that Potter had hooves. Before he had time to process this, Potter turned a corner fifty feet ahead and when Severus turned too, Potter was gone.

Hooves, Severus thought, remembering how his father had described the devil. Then he went back to his empty classroom. "Forever-us, Severus," Lily sometimes nursery-rhymed when they were alone and she thought he looked lonely. He was working up a spell based on the little verse.

* * *

><p><em>Severus had read up a bit on Occlumency that summer, so he didn't completely look like he was sulking his way through Eeylop's. (A stupid stop. Neither of them had owls. Though Lily did like to have treats and coos for the ones who carried her mail to and fro.) He just looked distracted and his "I wouldn't know, Lily" when she wondered which snacks the owls liked sounded more practical than snappish. But maybe he hadn't practiced enough, because she still seemed to know what he was thinking.<em>

_"Come off it and I'll buy you the subtlest sherbet Fortescue's offers," she said._

_He raised his eyebrows—_who, me?—_and looked down at his shopping list like he didn't have the faintest hint what she was on about._

_"I really wasn't laughing at you, Severus." She had turned away from him to give a big black owl a nibble on her fingers._

1 set robes, _he read._ Amalgam fr cldrn bttm. Visit Grngt's fr schlrshp txtbook fnd. Xmas pres fr L.—Flrsh & Blotts?

"_It's just that the 'subtle' thing is_ so _Severus."_

_He raised his eyebrows, still looking at the list._ Flrsh & Blotts? Ptns book?

"_I know you think that's griffinshit," she amended. "But I'm just so fond of you, Sev. And so when you act so_ very _you, I can't help but smile."_

_He sighed. And looked at her, his eyes only as obscure as they were without magic. "It's not a sherbet," he said finally. "Their subtlest flavor is mint."_

_Lily couldn't hide a tentative grin._


	9. Alternatives

AN: I won't continue this storyline, at least not here. I don't think this storyline could be continued without making Severus look really, really bad-I don't think he could have become a good person in this universe, or at least it's much less likely than it was in the canon universe

* * *

><p>For Severus, today, the luckiest part of being an Occlumens is this: that the Dark Lord doesn't have to know you're here to keep an eye on him, to make sure he delivers.<p>

The house smells like her, and so easy to slip into. Her perfume everywhere. Severus remembers how once, in a laughing fight, she sprayed it in his eyes. He tries not to imagine her chasing James down with it, spraying scent at him as she runs in a married game. The lights are still on, which strikes Severus as inconsistent with what he knows is soon to happen.

He's the first one to see James, guarding the base of the stairs. James, struck dumb at the sight of him—_this was once Lily's friend._ But James is never quiet long. "Fuck you," he says, and, wandless, stupidly brave, turns to the Dark Lord. "Look. Kill me. It will make at least some of your people happy. But you don't need to kill my family. You can just kill me. That will be enough."

But the Dark Lord, at least, is impatient with the schoolboy rivalry. He steps forward and delivers an Avada Kedavra; Severus feels no pang as James crumples to the floor. He makes sure to grind his foot into his rival's shoulder on the way upstairs.

Lily in the nursery—he hasn't seen her for more than a year—she shields the crib, feet planted firm, like Severus sometimes imagined her shielding him from his schoolmates or his dad. Too much to ask; she won't even be able to save her own baby, today. Stuck. She can't even apparate without Pettigrew's express permission, which they all know she doesn't have. For the first time since she first wanted to get away from Severus, she can't get away.

But she doesn't see him. Her eyes are on the Dark Lord. "Please—"

"Stand aside, foolish girl." There's already a little tension in his shoulders, like he's impatient with the promise. Snape stiffens.

"Take me instead." Her arms screening the target from harm.

And clearly Voldemort is inclined to honor her request. Even begins the curse: no Death Eater could be naïve enough to mistake that syllable for something else. In a short second Severus both begins to hate him and steps forward, obsequious, impulsive. He knows this is not the behavior the Dark Lord likes. He may very well be screwed. But anything for this one chance—"Remember? Your promise?"

Voldemort gives what may be a nod and Severus is desperate enough to take it. He lunges for Lily—who, it has just occurred to him, might not go for this willingly—and apparates away.

A clumsy apparition; he arrives at Spinner's End in an ill-planned whirl that cracks Lily's head against the mantel. The last glimpse he has of Godric's Hollow is Voldemort turning to the baby. The last sound: "Avada—"

But now Lily is dazed, maybe unconscious, in his grip and he is still recovering from the earth-shattering impact of this particular voyage. Like there was some kind of earthquake right as he disappeared.

Lily slumps against him, and he is overjoyed until he realizes that this definitely isn't something she would do. He draws one of her eyes open and stares. No thought, any Legilimens could tell. She's unconscious.

And she's his.

Severus drags her up the stairs, unwilling to give up the sweet weight even when their robes tangle and catch on splinters. She looks sweet in his bed. Brief moment of indecision: would her waking be less awkward if her put her on the sofa? But he's already given up on Lily liking him, at least naturally, at least right away. Some combination of Stockholm Syndrome and spells, maybe amortentia—

This. This is exactly what he wants, but not exactly what he wants. Lily lying in his bed, hair spread over the pillows, because she doesn't like to sleep on her hair; that part is right. But she should want to be. She should have been sleeping here for months, the ring on her finger should be the silver Prince heirloom. The swell of her breasts and the new marks on her stomach should be from his baby.

But just the brush of her robes against his sets his whole body to goosebumps.

He hugs her tighter.


	10. Pages Ripped from a Potions Textbook

AN: I wrote this several years ago. You get to read it now. Something else old/new and hopefully interesting is coming-keep an eye on my profile if you want to see it, it won't be part of this story.

The idea here is that Severus wrote this about Lily over the years and ripped out the page when he was mad at her.

* * *

><p>Things I know about Lily<p>

Situations Where She Absolutely Doesn't Pity Me

-when she is engrossed by potions, and is talking things out with me

-when we have a Scheme

-when I'm explaining the wizarding world

-when I'm hexing, jinxing, or cursing anyone (no matter who) (she just gets angry)

-when she is not paying attention to me

-when she's laughing

Things She Likes Best

-green, red, gold

-exploding snap

-autumn, maybe spring. both, but I'm not sure which more.

-potions, then charms, then herbology, arithmancy and transfiguration are up there too

-Flitwick, next Sprout or McGonagall, next Vector, next Slughorn

-Me.

-also she's fond of lupin(worrisome)

-strawberries, most fresh fruit actually, mashed potatoes, sea food

NOTE: no bananas in anything, she won't take it

What To Ask Her To Do

-walk around the grounds

-walk around Hogsmeade

-if there's any inkling she needs to study, study

-exploding snap but only if dire necessity

Reasons I Trump Potter

-take all of this more seriously

-don't ruffle my hair

-he has a huge head and is very self-centered and loud

-better at potions

-know more hexes & jinxes, certainly more curses

-slytherin slytherin knowing people

-I knew Lily since she was nine and before even

-she thinks he's a git

-she's right


	11. Blast from the Past

_AN_: This chapter is what I was talking about in my last author's note. I kind of thought, fuck it, I'll put it here-but if anyone thinks that's a bad idea I'd move it.

Remember when "The Marauders Read Harry Potter" stories where the thing? That was years ago, right? Well, that's when this chapter-the first chapter of my personal "The Marauders Read Harry Potter, but Severus and Lily are There Too" fic-was written. I think it shows. There's piles of italics in here, and it has adverbs out the ass. But I honestly think some of it is funny and the characterization is pretty good. Besides, just the idea of having these characters respond to their future gives me a really interesting way to get to know them. I'll be posting some of the more interesting passages and responses from time to time-particularly Severus' responses. Though he's not my favorite character, he's my favorite one to write!

* * *

><p>Rain poured everywhere in Godric's Hollow, from crowded Main St. and up the hill to the uncharacteristically quiet Potter house. The boys inside it lay still as corpses on a bed. It was 5 minutes before any of them spoke. Not surprisingly, Sirius broke the silence.<p>

"It's raining," he moaned. "Now we can't play Quidditch."

"What an original remark," Remus answered sarcastically. "It's been almost ten minutes since we last heard _that,_ and it's only the fifth time you've said it anyway."

James flopped his head up. "You're not in a good mood today. Is it your time of the month?"

Sirius sniggered, per usual. "Remus has a time of the month. Ha-ha, girly Remus."

"Speaking of girls," James added nonchalantly, "I've just found out my summer Potions tutor will be one."

"So _that's_ why you failed potions! I would've too if there were _girls_ involved."

"He didn't fail on purpose, Padfoot." Remus darted a look at James. "Unless he was trying to fool me with all those late-night study sessions."

"I wasn't, it just happened," said James. "But when it did..."

"Is Lily one of the summer Potions tutors?" Remus asked point-blank.

"I guess we'll find out," said James with an innocent expression.

"Wouldn't it be weird if she was?" said Sirius, rolling over and momentarily assuming dog form.

"Very weird," Remus agreed. "Almost if someone invisible snuck in to Slughorn's office and changed the list…"

"What're you accusing me of?" James asked.

"Nothing," Remus said superciliously. "I was just explaining something to Sirius—lord knows he needs the help."

Peter snored and rolled over. Sirius kicked him lightly in the head, "He's got the right idea," he said. "It's raining. Now we can't play Quidditch."

"If you're so bored, think of something entertaining to do," said Remus, faintly annoyed.

"Prank Snivellus," said Sirius automatically.

"He isn't here," said James. "I usually don't invite slimy gits, though I've made an exception for you two."

Sirius didn't take the bait; he was lost in a retelling of many Snivellus pranks. "And that time in Potions when we traded his shrivelfigs for bat dung and his left eyebrow turned into a frog—"

"That was great!" James responded enthusiastically. "And when we poured bubotuber pus in his shampoo bottle? Perfect prank, since if he _didn't_ get boils on his head, we would know that he didn't wash his hair—"

"And that time when we put all kinds of stuff in our cauldron and it exploded in our faces!"

"How is that a Snivellus prank?" asked Remus. "Not that I condone Snivellus pranks."

"It was fun, though! Let's do it now."

"We could try something serious, like a potion for your furry little problem," James added.

"I don't think that would work." Remus smiled sadly. Sirius was already rooting around in James's potion supplies.

"Comfrey, chopped slugs, belt buckle," Sirius said, chucking the items into his travel cauldron.

"Belt buckle?" Remus raised his eyebrows.

"Inspiration," said Sirius.

"Isn't that what Prongs said on that potion Slughorn gave him a D on?"

"Slughorn's not here—James just told you about his slimy git rule." Sirius fed a liquorice wand into the potion as James sprinkled in flower petals.

"I have this watch that runs backwards," Remus offered. He tossed it in; the potion turned bright gold and mellowed into something like pensieve liquid, but yellower.

Unfortunately, they had little time to admire it. Peter's sleeping arm jerked, pulling the bedclothes and upsetting the potion all over James's bookshelf. Peter sat up, startled by the crash.

The three who had been awake stared at the bookshelf, stunned into silence until Sirius announced, "I'm bored. It's raining. Now we can't play Quid—"

James and Remus simultaneously hit him with pillows.

After a pause, James said, "It didn't even explode."

"Maybe the wood turned into chocolate," Sirius suggested.

"Really?" said Peter.

"Yes," said Sirius sarcastically. Peter leaned over and gave the bookshelf a cautious lick.

James chuckled as Remus looked at the bookshelf, a long appraising glance. "Maybe it has magical properties now."

"What like?"

"I don't know, maybe turning the wearer invisible?"

James snickered, "Always with the invisibility jokes, Moony. It's not like we make werewolf jokes…"

"_James…"_

"…often."

Remus let the matter drop. "You know, I hate say this, but I could really go for a good game of Quidditch right now."

James looked jolted out of a world of thought. "Do you think it'll work?" he asked earnestly.

"No, because it's raining," said Sirius, while Remus said, "Well, you'd have to _work _at it." Sirius gave Remus a _what?_ look while he continued, "Although at bottom I think she is attracted to you."

"What does that have to do with Quid—?"

"Thanks," said James, giving Remus an honest grateful glance. Then he jerked up suddenly. "That's the Floo. What time is it?"

"One twenty something," said Sirius, and James sprang out of bed, ruffling his hair feverishly. "Why? Oh—Lily's coming, isn't she?" He smirked knowingly at Remus, who raised his eyebrows. James finished with his hair and started smoothing his shirttails.

"I was going to go to her house," he said, agitated. "I was gonna get there a little late and have a _really cool _story for why—"

"_James! You have another guest!"_

"Coming!" He gave his hair a last, quick ruffle, and ferreted through a pile of shoes for the least smelly pair.

"_James!"_

_"Coming!" _He fumbled twice on the door handle and then ran out, careening down the stairs. The rest of the Marauders followed curiously.

Lily stood in the kitchen, flicking ashes off her shoulders and talking politely and animatedly with Mrs. Potter. When James came in, breathless, she gave him a forced smile as his mother exclaimed, "And there's your student! Finally! James, dear, what _have_ you done to your head?"

And so the first time Lily saw James that summer, he was having his hair smoothed down by his mother.

"I thought I was supposed to go to your house," he said, re-ruffling his hair surreptitiously. "And I thought it started at one-thirty."

"Well, it's one-thirty on the dot now!" exclaimed Mrs. Potter. "Lily, you know Sirius? He moved in fifth year…and Remus, he's just as studious as you, dear. . ."

"We've met," said Lily, pushing up the sleeves of her big, airy cardigan. "Sometimes at night in the hallways, when I'm doing my shift."

James grinned and shrugged as his mother said, "Oh of course! Remus _is _a prefect…"

"This should be fun," said Lily and James simultaneously, and in totally different ways. Remus waved sheepishly and Sirius wiggled his eyebrows. Peter just watched, mouth hanging halfway open.

"Well, it was great to meet someone who knows so much about charms," Lily said to Mrs. Potter, grinning sincerely. Turning to James with a glare, she said, "Now for the real work."

"My stuff's in my room," said James, gesturing up the stairs. The other boys parted to let James and Lily come up together.

"Did you set this up?" said Lily frankly, as soon as Mrs. Potter was out of earshot.

"Somewhat, but I really do need the potions help," James said, earning an eye-roll and a snort. "Also, I'm mostly out of potions stuff."

He held open the door to his room, which Lily entered with a look of faint disgust—and then, suddenly, a yelp, as something shot off the bookshelf and hit her stomach. She stumbled backwards into James, who reached instinctively around her waist—and found she was holding a book.

"What _was _that?" she said, breaking away and shoving the book into his hands.

"Just my copy of _Harry Potter and the Sorceror's Stone,_" he improvised, reading the title surreptitiously.

"What?"

"His family genealogy," invented Sirius, to whom the idea seemed normal if objectionable.

"Is it trained to bombard non-Purebloods?"

Remus stepped in quickly. "It's never done that to me, Lily. It must have been a pure accident."

She shrugged, looking at the cover. "Is that supposed to be you? Broom, ruffled hair…but what's with the scar—and the green eyes?" She flipped the book over. "And the reviews on the back cover?" She opened it. "And there's a table of contents. . .and a copyright page. . .which says that this book was published in 1997." She handed back the book with a quizzical glance.

"Because. . .because this is not my family genealogy."

Lily looked even more quizzical; everyone stared down at the book. Remus was the first one to consider not lying. "Actually, none of us have any idea what this book is. We spilled some potion on James's bookshelf earlier, now there are future-books flying off of it when we open the door."

Sirius grabbed the book and flipped to the first chapter. "Know any Dursleys?" He got blank looks and shrugs.

"What kind of potion?" said Lily, folding her arms. "Pretty effective for a boy who's failing."

James flushed. "Just some stuff we threw together. Sirius wanted an explosion. That reminds me—_Mom, we're all out of chopped slugs!"_

"_Need anything else?"_

_"Dunno—_" James looked at Lily. "Do we?"

"What have you got?"

"_I'm leaving in one minute!"_

"Let's just go with her, it would be easier," suggested James, looking carefully at Lily for approval. When she shrugged, he ran to the door. "_We're coming!_ She'll be leaving by Floo, go to the kitchen."

"Borrow some money, James?" said Sirius.

"In my pouch when you need it. That goes for everyone," James responded, following Lily out the door.

Peter caught up with him, but when he saw James' look of focused happiness he decided to fall back. When Remus was at his side, Peter whispered, "He's just not a Marauder when she's around."

"Yes, I think that's fair to say," Remus responded, with a bit of an intellectual grin. Peter shook his head incredulously and fell back again to talk to Sirius.

"I feel a bet coalescing here," said Sirius with a grin. "Something involving James, Lily, and drama."

"All right—wager five sickles that James will ask her out more than twelve times this week," said Peter, pleased with the attention.

"Wouldn't take that bet," Sirius laughed.

Remus shot them a look, then leaned forward to James. "Don't—don't proposition her."

"What?" said James, startled.

"Just don't ask her out."

"Not that that's giving up much," said James, gazing at the back of Lily's head, "but why?"

"Bet," said Remus, flashing a galleon and a look at Sirius, who grinned and nodded, unrepentant.

* * *

><p>Lily wandered Slug and Jiggers' Apothecary, followed obediently by James (and trailed by the other, interested Marauders at a suitable distance). James kept up a running commentary on which ingredients he did not have, and did they need them, and how many did they need.<p>

"That depends on what you need help with," she said, with a small smile.

"Everything," he replied eagerly. "Well, everything after Gryffindor's third-to-last Quidditch game."

"Brawn over brains," said Lily rather to herself.

"The Slytherin captain gave up on all his subjects!" said James, stung but pleased to be talking to her. "And Potions wasn't my best class anyway, it was my best option to ignore—"

"Never mind," said Lily, moving forward to examine some dragon liver. "Don't you love this place? I could stay here for hours…"

"Yeah," said James, dry-mouthed. Sirius, several feet away, leaned over and began poking Remus animatedly.

Lily didn't notice, far too distracted by something she'd noticed on the other end of the store. She stiffened, scanned the area for a graceful escape, and then unceremoniously dropped to the ground. "Come _on,_" she hissed to James.

He followed her down. "What, did you drop something?"

"Just my calm," said Lily, blushing violently. "Severus is by the beetle eyes."

James peeped surreptitiously over the dragon-liver barrels, verifying. Snape put down his pouch of eyes and scrutinized the area Lily had been in. "So what are we doing down here?"

"Trying not to get his attention." Lily sighed, her gaze flicking up into James's inches-away eyes. "I hate to give you more ammunition, James, but Severus can sometimes be _nasty_."

He recovered quickly from a dry mouth. "I'll hex him for you," James offered with a quirked grin. Lily couldn't help grinning back, even as she gave a quick gesture of refusal.

James liked this predicament. He wanted to keep it.

But continuing the predicament, at close quarters with Lily, wasn't in James's power. Sirius strode past their hiding place, dragging Remus and Peter in his wake, shouting, "Well, if it isn't Snivellus! Fancy seeing you here!"

Snape raised his eyebrows, looking around once more. "Only three on one this time? Pity…Potter could have used a good hex."

Sirius reared up, Remus grabbing him by the elbow. "_Potter_ uses your hexes better than you do!"

"Then more's the pity he's missing, as you can't prove it." He paused for a nostril-flare from Sirius. "May I ask where he is? Playing with brooms, maybe, or scruffy dogs? Though you might consider that cheating on you…"

Sirius jerked his arm free and advanced towards Snape, who prudently and hastily stepped backwards, hand on his wand. But Sirius didn't pull out his wand or even raise his fists. Instead, he shouted, "Prongs!"

James rose from the barrels, sheepish; Lily did the same with much more composure, pulling her purse over her shoulder and daring everyone with her eyes to ask what she'd been doing down there.

"Well, hello there," said James, inane and annoyed. But of course Snape wasn't looking at him.

"So you're spending time with Potter now," Snape said to Lily, with unreadable eyes and clear, goading bitterness in his voice. Lily stared him down. Threads of dislike were growing tense in the room.

"Do you have everything?" asked Remus quickly. Snape's eye contact with Lily broke as she turned to nod, and the whole group (Snape too, following at a distance but inexorably) drifted towards the counter. James had a whispered conversation with the other Marauders, explaining why he'd been hiding on the floor, and fell back to ask Lily if she wanted help with the basket.

"_No," _she said pointedly, but with a smile; she swung the basket onto her far hip. Up ahead, Sirius couldn't help sniggering.

Mrs. Potter was at the counter, bargaining for nettles, so James took the Potions goods from Lily politely and deposited them in front of her. "What's for dinner?" he greeted her, and Sirius's head perked up, doglike.

"Whatever I can whip up for six," she responded, giving her customary answer. "Unless you want to make it seven?" she asked Lily. "Or eight?" she said, turning, to Snape.

Darting glances at his less-than-thrilled classmates, Snape said, "Make it eight, thank you."

"Then the forecast is shepherd's pie and salad," Mrs. Potter said, producing a fire in the apothecary's hearth and passing a shaker of Floo powder.

James grabbed her shoulder. "Mum," he hissed. "You don't know Snape. You can't—"

"I know a boy who's been neglected," she whispered back calmly. "Now try to be nice. Potter House, Godric's Hollow!" She swirled into the fire.

Peter followed her quickly, stuttering the address; he had good reason, as Sirius had already set in on Snape, who spat acid-tongued retorts. Remus looked very much as if he wanted to go after him, but he wearily stayed back, trying to break up the fight. At last Snape became so disgusted with Sirius that he simply said the name and stepped into the fireplace, a last glance at Lily pressuring her to follow. Well, Sirius Black wasn't going to leave that Slytherin alone with his smallest friend and his foster mother—and Remus pursued them to stop any fighting. That left Lily and James alone for a second.

"Is he a Death Eater?" James asked, unconsciously putting his hand on his wand.

"I wouldn't know," said Lily bitterly. She rubbed her temple, appearing to calm down a bit. "But I know he's involved with them."

"My house is pretty well charmed—wards, restrictions," James assured her, wishing he could give better comfort. How would it feel to have a friend turn dark? "He couldn't—nobody could hurt anyone there, I think."

"Lucky, to live at the Potter House, Godric's Hollow," said Lily, swirling efficiently into the fire.


End file.
